


I no longer want to live in the shadows of my unknown past

by madasahatterthinasadime



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Pseudo-Incest, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reincarnation, Soulmates, i have no idea what im doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 22:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19304914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madasahatterthinasadime/pseuds/madasahatterthinasadime
Summary: ~I looked at him, the way the sun shone on him, the way it seemed to catch the green specks in his otherwise honey eyes, the way he made his old threadbare tweed jacket and dress pants look not nerdy, the way that even though his stupidly unruly black hair looked like it has never been touched by a brush in his 26 years of life he still managed to look somewhat aesthetically pleasing. Sitting across from him in that quiet Parisian café in my worn out PCA hoodie with my unwashed jeans and dull grey eyes, not for the first time, nor the last, I felt inferior in his presence.Why did he only want to meet me now after days of ignored calls? What's so important that warrant him dragging himself out of his lab? How was I connected to this?~~~~~~~~~~I haven't written anything in such a long time so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or any plot points that I may have overlooked. Thanks :)





	I no longer want to live in the shadows of my unknown past

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be a fanfic of some sort but then I realized that my non-existent plot and poor planning made it impossible for me to include any pre-existing characters into the story. 
> 
> Still, I hope you enjoy!!!!
> 
> P.S.  
> This is literally the first time in like 3 or so years that I've written anything outside of research papers so presently I'm hella rusty at this whole "not research paper" thing.

The sun shone through the café window, right onto where we sat, sipping too dark coffee and listening to old jazz from the ’60s.

I looked at him, the way the sun shone on him, the way it seemed to catch the green specks in his otherwise honey eyes, the way he made his old threadbare tweed jacket and dress pants look not nerdy, the way that even though his stupidly unruly black hair looked like it has never been touched by a brush in his 26 years of life he still managed to look somewhat aesthetically pleasing. Sitting across from him in that quiet Parisian café in my worn out PCA hoodie with my unwashed jeans and dull grey eyes, not for the first time, nor the last, I felt inferior in his presence.

The sound of him settling down his mug bought my attention back to him,

“I’m glad you can meet me on such short notice. I hope I’m not distracting you from your studies,” His voice, a deep baritone, had the same effect as always of making me feel small in his presence, “I needed to tell you something and it seemed to be best if I told you face to face.” I took a sip from the too dark coffee, cringing as the bitterness of the Americano hit my tongue, wondering whatever could be so urgent for him to seek me out when just two days ago he said he was too busy to eat dinner with me.

Looking at him, the feeling of inferiority came crashing back into my body. Ever since we were kids it seems that I was always chasing after his shadows, where ever he went, I followed, what he did I tried to emulate. It seems like something never change, just as the sun will always rise and the moon controls the tides, I always will compare myself to him.

“It’s fine, it’s not like I have finals coming up or anything.” The sarcasm was biting but I could not bring myself to apologize to him. The frustration of the past few weeks spilt over. Objectively I knew he wasn’t intentionally ignoring me but it still stung nevertheless.

“I understand that you are mad Timothee, but I swear it was not my intention to ignore you, I am truly sor-,” I interrupted his apology knowing that if I heard it, I would have folded like a wet tissue and forgiven him.

“Get to the point please, Alex, I have to get back to the Louvre.” His demeanour did a 180 after that, it seems that whatever it was that he wanted to tell me were quite serious indeed.

He hesitated a bit, seemingly thinking of a way as to not set me off with his words, “You remember the nightmares you used to have when you were young, the ones where you would wake up speaking in a different language, knowing things that were not taught in your school?” Alex looked me straight in the eye as he said this, his honey eyes bore into mine as he tried to convey something more nuance than what he was saying, something that I had no idea what it meant since I don’t speak Alex’s ‘cryptic’ language that only really made sense once in a blue moon.

His question made no sense too, why on earth would he want to bring up those stupid dreams that got me in trouble more times than I could count, my fingers clenched around the coffee cup I was holding, threatening to send hot coffee spilling all over my jeans,

“Those were just dreams, Alex, 20 something-year-old dreams at that, why are you bringing them up?” I can’t believe him, dragging me out of the Louvre just to bring up these horrible memories, dreams, nightmares, whatever you want to call them. He didn’t even seem to notice my obvious discomfort in the topic, he just kept pressing onwards.

“Just hear me out okay, what I’m about to tell you, it stays between us, no one is to know about it as it can and will change everything we’ve, you’ve ever known,” his eyes bore into mine with such intensity I had to look away, whatever passes through his lips from that moment on, I knew would possibly, maybe, definitely, be the truth. He manipulates and twists the truth, but he never lied when he got like this,

“those ‘dreams’ are real. Everything you’ve ever dreamed about ever since you can remember has been real, we’ve lived through them, and this conversation that we are having right now has occurred many times in many different iterations.” This rushed out of him, he was no longer as collected as he was earlier.

“We’ve?” I asked, taking another sip of that bitter drink choosing to ignore the other things he said as they were just way too unrealistic to even be put on my radar.

“Yes, we. I lived through them too, I’ve had those dreams too! I must admit I’ve always had an easier time putting everything together,” he looked nervous.

Ha! Alex looked nervous, wasn’t that odd,

“unlike yours, my ‘memories’ always appear in order so it takes less time for me to piece them together,” He looked down at the table then back at me, “you must believe me, Timothee. Think back to your dreams and you will understand everything, you must believe me.” A frown marred his face.

My mind whirled with the information he just dumped on me. If what Alex said was true, and that was a big if, then everything that never made sense in my life will finally have a justifiable explanation to it. Like that time in a secondary school trip, where I was able to understand the Latin carved onto 2000-year-old marble, how I knew more about astrology at the age of 5 then most 20 years old’s’ did, and the fact that somehow my ability to just know very obscure historical facts made sense. It didn’t mean I fully believed him, however, only that I wasn’t going to outright deny his version of the truth.

“Reincarnation, Timothee,” His voice broke me out of my musings, “two millennia of endless reincarnation have led us to this point. Your memories will come back after this conversation, slowly in pieces and out of order like all of your other lifetimes but time has proven that each time we go through this cycle the time in which you recall things lessens,” I looked at him, his body language showed no signs of deception. “I honestly wanted us to live a normal life compared to the others but I have come upon some unsettling information that has made me realize that I cannot keep the truth of our past from you any longer.”

The tone of his voice shifted to something more sombre, more foreboding. The café suddenly felt less tranquil. The jazz music in the background sounded more ominous then it did moments before. Across from me, Alex’s honey eyes bored into mine.

I took another sip from the coffee.

“How do I know you are telling the truth?” the possibilities of him lying to me are slim to none but, reincarnation is still something that seems out of the realm of reality, “why should I believe you.” The bite in my words surprised me, it seems that it surprised him even more as his eyes showed semblances of hurt for a split second if I didn’t know him like I knew the back of my hand I might have missed it, but it was gone just as fast as it came.

Clouds started to roll in from the west, it covered the previously sunny sky with grey despair and without warning rain started to fall.

Plitt, plat, Plitt, plat, the sound of the rain hitting the windows we were sitting next to drew my eyes outside, I could barely see the Louvre now, the streets were desolate as pedestrians ran to the nearest coffee shops to ride out the rain.

A cough drew me back to the present, to him and the little café we were sitting in,

“You remember the summer when we went to Nice?” he began, “Madame Mariam took us to the inn by the harbour and us older boys were due to pick up the trash on the beach.

I was reluctant to go but you were downright hysterical, crying, pleading with Madame, trying to find a way to make me stay back with the younger kids. When that didn’t work you begged me not to go to the beach threatening to never speak to me again if I did. You told me that something horrible was going to happen if I went,” he fiddled with the ring on his hand, his eyes drifted to the windows before speaking again, “I know why you tried so hard to keep me away from that harbour, to me it happened lifetimes ago but to you at that age it must have felt like yesterday.

Three lifetimes ago we were brought to that harbour by traders, you were my brother in that life just as we are brothers now.

France was not as it is today, harsher, dangerous for little boys like us to be left alone, and alone were we then. Our mother in that lifetime entrusted us to those traders remember? She gave them what money she had left to make sure we were taken care of but those traders decided we were too much trouble wasn’t that right?” a humourless chuckle broke through his lips,

“we were staying at a rundown inn close to the docks since he wanted to get rid of our bodies easier once he was done with us. We were both still so young, so vulnerable and I was powerless to do anything to help save you, protect you.

He bought us to the docks, didn’t he? In the dead of night. He drowned me first, took a rock and bashed in my head, he didn’t even check to see if I was alive or not, he just threw me into the merciless depth, to the unforgiving cold of the November sea. Your fate was worse than mine wasn’t it? I mean, you never told me what happened after that in any of the lifetimes that came after, but you did develop a serious phobia of the ocean after that life.”

His hands shook with either anger or fear, I couldn’t tell. It was hard to tell when his eyes are closed.

Mine was no better as the long-repressed memories came back to the forefront of my mind. The face of that god forsaken man, the way I screamed for help that will never come, the way I begged him to stop.

Suddenly I felt warm hands claps mine, the scent of frankincense and myrrh assaulted my senses grounding me, pulling me away from those terrible, terrible memories.

“How do you know the details of that dream? I’ve never told anyone.” My voice was barely above a whisper as I tightened my grip on his hand. Still reeling from the effects of those memories,

“I told you, silly boy, we’ve lived it, not only that life but many more throughout the three millennia that our souls have resided on this earth.” He sounded oddly found when he said this like he said the exact same phrase to me many times. It did sound quite familiar like an old song that you no longer quite remember the lyrics to but can still recall the melody. It gave me comfort loath as I was to admit.

What he said earlier finally caught up to me. He didn’t want to tell me this, the only reason he told me this was because circumstances forced his hand.

“I’m still mad at you,” I tried to glare at him, “you said that you wanted me to live a peaceful like without the dangers of the past lifetimes yet here you are telling me all about it, and by the way thanks for sending me into a panic. It was fun.” Each word dripped in sarcasm, I dropped my grip on his hand and returned it to my, now cold, coffee.

I took another sip; the bitterness was something familiar in a, now, unfamiliar world. I must admit the look on his face just then gave me a sick sense of satisfaction. Serves him right for ignoring me for 3 days then dragging me out of the Louvre and dropping this big of an informational dump on me.

“I had to make you believe me, Timothee, please, it was not my intention to drag up hurtful memories but I had to make you believe me. I came across something while researching for the university that might shine some light on why we are like this, why we are stuck in an endless loop of reincarnation,” he took something out of his briefcase, from the looks of it, a very old manuscript, the words on the front look like old Latin, not something that I can say for sure I recognize, the ones from before the Romulus and Remus spilt,

“This book caught my eye while I was down in the restricted section of the university library,” he continued, setting the book down on the low rise table between us, “I was quite surprised to see it as I thought all copies were destroyed when the great library was burned to the ground but it seems that I was wrong.

Look at what it said about Saturn and his followers. The curse they will bestow of someone who escapes their grasp. It seems eerily similar to what we’ve been though.” he turned the pages slowly, the pages of the manuscript were yellowed with age, the words inked on it slowly fading,

_“ The doomed scythe of Saturn;_

**_ Those who are killed by this weapon, are doomed to be stuck in a perpetual Loop of reincarnation, never to know the nirvana that is Elysium and never to be welcomed into the Isle of the blessed.  _ **

_The weapon is thought to be the original weapon that was forged by Saturn and used to defeat his father. Location: UKNOWN“_

I read the passage pointed out to me, it kind off made sense in some twisted reality bending way. If the goal of the weapon was to inflict pain and suffering on the victim then it did its job marvellously.

Without warning pain seared through my skull, white spots formed around my field of vision as memories from a lifelong gone suddenly flashed through my mind’s eye; temples and incents, sacrifice and worship, Alex’s face appeared and disappeared as quickly as it came, the smell of smoke and a voice shouting, blood gushing out of a wound I can’t see and the glint of a scythe in the pale moonlight. 

“Timothee!” the weight of a hand settling down on my shoulders startled me out of the flashback, “are you alright?” everything felt as if I was underwater, blurry, slowed down and unfocused, Alex’s worried face came into view, “did you remember anything?” he sounded distressed?

Or was that barely restrained fury?

My mind was still too unravelled to differentiate between the two.

“What did you say?” I asked,

“Did you remember anything Timothee?” he repeated, this time much slower, easier to follow I guess, a chuckle flew past my lips before my mind could stop it,

“I think I might have just seen our first life. Well more specifically I think I saw my death.” the coffee cup felt like led in my hands as those words passed through my lips, fear irrationally gripped my heart, like someone reached into my chest, took ahold of my heart and squeezed.

“Our first life? How are you sure it the very first one we had?” he questioned, what’s so important in our first life to warrant such a reaction from him I mused. Maybe my stupid brother doesn’t remember everything after all, so much for being the omniscient one of us two.

“Donno,” I shrugged, “It’s just a feeling you know?”

The weather outside the quaint little café did not seem like it was going to get better anytime soon, the rain continued pouring down on to the plaza, flooding the low rises.

The sound of rain hitting the window still was oddly relaxing in the face of such revelations making me feel less high strung as I did, not entirely relaxed as my thoughts were still preoccupied with the images of a city burning, but enough that the smell of burnt flesh no longer assaulted my senses. Isn’t it wild how one conversation outside the Louvre could flip your life upside down yet make everything right at the same time? C'est la vie I guess, what can I do about it other than accept it now that I know the truth.

“We never remembered what happened during the last few days of our first cycle,” just like that his voice broke me out of my thoughts for the umpteenth time today, “I know I never ever remember what happened. You never talked about it until today so I assumed you never knew either.” I did not know how to reply; how can I reply to his when I barley know myself? It’s like asking an amnesiac who they were before they forgot who their lives, impossible.

Lighting flashed through the grey Parisian sky, the silence between us stretched on. I was locked in thought while he was, well I had no idea what he was doing since I was otherwise preoccupied with sorting out my memories from that night.

~

'This isn't exactly the best day of my life' I thought to myself as I ran up vesta hills, the smell of burnt wood and bodies assaulted my senses, the sky above me was illuminated with flames. I couldn’t help but look back to the city that I left behind, the once proud and unbroken city now lies in ruins as the barbarians pillaged everything in sight. I desperately wanted to go back and help with the evacuation but the task entrusted to me was too big a deal to not follow through with it. I turned back to the overgrown path, soul crying out to my lost city and my lost brethren’s but I couldn’t turn back now, I had a task to do and I’ll be damned if I failed this. Pain shot through me as the soles of my feet was torn open by the jagged rocks surrounding the temples, looking down, grimacing as I realized the true extent to the gash, a deep cut right in the middle of my sole, blood and dirt covered the surface so I could not see how deep it was but from the pain level I would guess the stone might have cut 2cm deep, almost enough to see bone.

The temple was now insight, trying to put the injury out of my mind I limped up the marble staircase leading up to the entrance. Wood was rough under my palms as I pushed the door open, moonlight spilt into it lighting up the statue of Vesta making her comely face seem far colder than the hearth she personifies. Limping to the alter I dropped down to my knees, the weight of the situation, everything came crashing down. Tears spilt down my face as sobs wrecked my body, the force of the sobs made it increasingly difficult for me to breath. Looking up to her face, the gentle, kind goddess that kept our city safe for generations, I felt a surge of resentment, at her, at father, at brother and most importantly at Jupiter. What did we do to deserve a holocaust being bought onto us? We were as pious as anyone could be, I was as pious as anyone could be, so why is it that now after all the worship I’m left alone? Father is most likely dead, Alex is probably captured and mother, oh, my sweet loving mother, I don’t want to think about what fate might have befallen her.

Footsteps echoed behind me, this is going to be how I die, I thought. I heard the footsteps stop three meters away,

“Timothee?” that’s Alex's voice! Spinning around, the first thing I saw was blood covered armour then I saw his face, moments ago I had resigned myself to being the last surviving member of my family but now looking at my brothers face I could help but cry harder.

“I thought you died,” I sobbed as I threw myself at him, hugging him close not at all mind the way the blood of his armour sank into my white toga, “I was so scared Alex, I was so scared.” Clinging to him my words were muffled but he seemed to hear it as he held me tighter then he did before, before I knew it and too soon for my liking he let go,

“Are you alright?” he asked as he checked me for injury stopping at my feet where I cut myself earlier, “what happened? Timothee did someone hurt you?” his voice shook as he got to the last part, I frantically shook my head, hoping that I won’t make him more worried and more high strung than he was.

“I’m fine,” my voice was rough from all that crying, clearing my throat I started over, “I’m fine, I injured myself getting up the hill that’s all, no one saw me, it’s fine, you don’t have to worry.” I tried to assure him, I tried to assure myself.

“Come on, we have to get the book, we’ve got no time left to lose the barbarians have followed me up to the temple they will be here any second.” He led me slowly to the back room, mindful of my injuries. My heart raced as I tried to control my breathing, the thought of those god forsaken people setting foot onto the holy ground was enough to make me feel sick, enough to make me want to barricade the door and burn the whole place to the ground with us in it lest they make the hallowed grounds dirty. But I could not, no matter how much I wanted, burn the place down. I was entrusted with duty by my father, the last thing he entrusted me with was to secure the heart of the city, I made a promise to him and I’ll be damned if I broke it.

“I need your blood,” he commanded, I gave it without hesitation. Wincing as the tip of his dagger connected with my palms, I watched as blood pooled into the centre, like the times before I let the blood drip down onto the cracked mosaic of Vesta and her siblings escaping from Cronos. The ground beneath us rumbled, splitting open, revealing a set of stairs leading to the back rooms. Alex went first, and like always I followed.

The stairs led to a hollow cave-like structure alit with ghost fires, in the middle of the cave standing at the very centre on a raised platform, was the heart of our city. I remember the elders telling me that it contained the secrets of the universe, written in a language so old that it was forgotten by the gods. They said it was created when Caelus and Terra still touched when the world was new and mortals still had two heads and eight limbs. The elders said that if the heart were to ever be lost then Armageddon will begin, and Tartarus will unleash his offspring onto the mortal plain.

Alex walked over to the alter and picked the book up. Just as he was about to hand it to me, shouts were heard from above,

“They’re here,” I looked at him in alarm not knowing what to do and how to proceed, “hide this, quick!” he handed the book to me as he unsheathed his sword, “I’m going to do my best to hold them off, hide it well Timothee so that they may never find it.”

“NO!” I protested just as he reached the foot of the stairs, “please, Alex, I cannot lose you too. If we were to die then let’s die together. Please don’t leave me again.” I did not think I could have survived the heart break if I was forced to watch him die or send him off to his death again, how could I?

“Timothee,” he took my face in his hands, “listen, you are going to hide that book somewhere where no one can ever find it, I want you to do that for me, can you?” his eyes core into mine as he said it, each word he said felt like it was going to be the last, in some ways it was.

“Okay,” I relented, it was the least I could do. If I could not fight alongside him then I will follow his commands. “stay safe, please. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I promise to you Timothee, I swear to you as your brother that if we die tonight, we will find each other in the next.” And with that he climbed up the stairs, surly to his death. I hesitated for while before clutching the book to my chest and running to the exit, hoping that the barbarians did not have guards stationed around the temple. Running through the pitch blackness of the underground tunnels, I finally reached my destination. A small exit that led into the forest that I hurriedly went through. When I got out, the mood was high in the sky, making even a forest as dense as this illuminated.

I hid the book, buried it in such a place that they will never find it. Weaved enough blessings and hexes into it that if they were to ever find it, the book will never open for them and can never be destroyed by them.

They were approaching, I could hear them.

Heart sinking as I realized what that meant. My brother was dead, I was all alone in the world. I felt like I aged 10 years in the span of one night, not even, 4 hours. The sound of crushed leaves and shouting alerted me to my pursuers but I had no more energy to run. No more drive to survive, I’ve done my part, I’ve hidden the book where no one can ever find it and now I have prepared myself to die.

Pain shot through my shoulders and an arrow went through me. It was nothing compared to the pain I was feeling in my heart, the type of sorrow that drowns you out was consuming me, my will to live died with the last of my family. The glint of an obsidian scythe caught the moonlight as my pursuers finally caught up to me, their voices were rough and their words were foreign, I did not fight. The leader came up to me, he must have said something funny as the solders around him laughed. He must have gotten mad at the lack of fight I was putting on and my despondent attituded because soon enough the gleam of obsidian was coming down fast on my neck and then I felt nothing.

~

Pulling myself out of the, very pleasant, walk down memory lane, I was met with my brother's worried face. I must have looked shaken because instead of interrogating me on whether I remembered something or not, he wordlessly handed me a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Huh, what a contrasting picture this makes next to the image of a bloody Alex in Legionary attire, I couldn’t help but chuckle when the image of a bloody Alex handing me hot chocolate in a fancy Paris café popped into my head, Oh imagine the scandalized faces of the old madams sitting next to us and the bewilderments of the art students outside.

“Merci Alex,” I said, taking a sip from the mug, ahh, just how I like it.

The rain was still pouring, the streets were still flooding and the mystery of our past life was just beginning to unravel.

“I know why we died.”

 

 

  



End file.
